


God's a Right Bastard, but Then So Am I

by Perhapsormaybe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Humor, I Don't Know Where This Is Going, I find it funny at least, M/M, eventual romantic stuff maybe, look - Freeform, this isn't planned out at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perhapsormaybe/pseuds/Perhapsormaybe
Summary: Hello, CrowleyThis wasn't Hell. This was a voice he hadn't heard in thousands of years. And had it not for Armageddon having been averted just weeks ago, he might have received that voice with reverence. Instead, he felt irritation.“Now what didyouwant?”I need something from you. I need you to do something.“I'm not on your side anymore. I got cast out, remember? Fallen and all that.”You didn't fall. You just sauntered downwards, right?“I still got the boot, didn't I?” He snorted.Summary: It starts with a birthday party. But it's going to end with another attempt to derail Armageddon. This time Crowley's assistance has been requested  - by God herself. Here we go again.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 21





	1. Birthday Party

**Author's Note:**

> Gotta be honest, writing by the seat of my pants here. Had an idea for Crowley talking to God through a gramophone and this is what came out. I don't know how long it's going to be, I don't know what the update schedule is for it and I'm currently rewatching for more ideas. The world is still on fire and I will write and/or draw Good Omens things so that I feel a tiny bit better, and hopefully it helps someone else out there, too.

This time it didn't start with an apple. But it did start with an Adam.

Adam had gotten it into his head that neither Aziraphale nor Crowley had ever had a true birthday party and that it was his solemn duty as their newest friend to resolve that issue. Aziraphale had been delighted by the idea, though Adam soon regretted bringing it up when Aziraphale's party had been a tea that Aziraphale himself had arranged. All of the Them were horrendously bored the whole time, though the parting gift of books had been particularly appreciated by Wensleydale. Adam had to admit that his own book, a wilderness guide that taught him how to build all sorts of neat things from what he could find in the forest, was actually pretty interesting.

Still, he had wanted Crowley's to be better, and he was convinced that a demon would know how to party. So he was disappointed when Crowley resolutely refused to have a party thrown for him. 

“It's just not my thing,” he'd huffed when Adam demanded an explanation. He kept trying to shoo the boy off, but found he stuck to him like glue. All of the Them did, though Wensleydale, perhaps unsurprisingly, took more to Aziraphale. 

“But don't you want any presents?” Brian suggested. “That's the best part of parties, anyhow.”

Crowley had continuously tried to blow them off, but somehow they'd found his apartment. And keeping Adam out was impossible – not just because he retained his powers. Also because as a demon, Crowley had never thought to lock his apartment. And he'd never been close to eleven year olds before, so he hadn't expected the Them to just come barreling in without knocking whenever they pleased.

“You know,” Aziraphale had said to him recently, “I rather think you like the company. I notice you still aren't locking your door.”

“Shut up,” was all Crowley had responded.

And so it was that a surprise party was planned. Aziraphale had denounced it as a bad idea, yet he helped them anyway. “Part and parcel of the angel thing,” he'd explained, “Got to help.”

“But I thought you weren't really with heaven's side anymore?” Wensleydale asked innocently. 

“Yeah,” Pepper backed him up, “So why do you have to do what they'd expect of you anymore?”

“Fine,” he huffed, “I actually would rather like to assist you. And I do believe I owe Crowley a thing or two for the help he's given over the years. Perhaps you'd like to help me out? I have an idea but I'm not certain what all to put on it.”

“Put on it?” Asked Adam, cocking his head to the side.

“You'll see what I mean,” Aziraphale promised.

Hours later they were hanging streamers at Crowley's place, (“Can't you both do this magically?” Brian whined after a while at Aziraphale and Adam. “Best to learn to do things for yourself, my boy,” Aziraphale responded. Adam had only shrugged and continued to throw streamers over the plants) and prepping Crowley's apartment as best as they could. Aziraphale had asked Crowley to go get some things for him, and though he complained Crowley had immediately gone to fetch the items. None of it was actually needed, of course. It was just a way to get Crowley out of his apartment.

Anathema and Newt had joined them, though they both seemed confused about the need. “Well, I mean, he's never had a party for himself,” Adam was explaining. 

“It just seemed kind of sad,” Pepper added. “I can't imagine never having a birthday party, and I think until us he only had Mr. Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale looked a little sad at the use of “only” but he was pleased the children were a bit more polite to him than the average person. They refused to use “Mr. Fell”, with all of them insisting that since his full name was Aziraphale, Mr. Aziraphale would be how the Them referred to him. 

“I think that's very kind of you,” Anathema said. “Newt, can you hand me the other side of that banner?” 

Newt obliged and they worked together to hang a banner in the middle of the room. “But why today?” Newt asked. “I mean, so far as I know your lot don't have birthdays, right?” Aziraphale shook his head no. “So why today?”

“Because,” Adam said as though it was the most obvious thing, “This was the first day we had that we're off from school and you and Anathema weren't busy either.”

“Ah. Well, that's a good reason, then,” Newt said, satisfied and just happy to be included. “We're certain he's not going to come back and get mad and destroy the place?”

“I'm absolutely certain he won't,” Aziraphale guaranteed, “though he may grumble a bit. But that's why I've brought some excellent wine.”

“Can I try some?” Pepper, Adam and Brian all chorused.

“Not until you're old enough to appreciate it,” Aziraphale shot back.

“He means not until you're old enough for it to be legal,” Anathema corrected. The angel looked chastised, but shrugged in ascent. 

“I do believe he'll be back soon,” Aziraphale brushed as his already immaculate suit and turned around to face the others. “Shall we hide and try to surprise him?”

“What the bloody hell do you need to do that for?” Crowley had snuck in behind him. All except Aziraphale jumped in surprise. 

After a quick recovery, the Them shouted out “Happy Birthday!”

“Birthday? I don't have a birthday,” Crowley grumbled. “I thought I told you lot I didn't want a party?”

“There are presents,” Brian offered.

“And cake!” Pepper suggested, gesturing at where a cake had been laid out on the table.

“And if that doesn't catch your fancy, apparently there's wine,” Newt suggested. 

“We all worked to stop a whole apocalypse and we _won_ ,” Anathema added. “We all deserve whatever excuse we want to relax and have some cake.”

“Oh? Your great-great-great-great....however many greats Agnes Nutter was to you suggest that?” Crowley crossed his arms.

“If it gets you to eat the cake,” Anathema shot back, “Then sure. Don't forget she saved you and Aziraphale pretty handily there.”

“Fine,” Crowley threw up his hands, “We'll have the damn party. But I am not playing any games,” Aziraphale handed him a glass of wine but before he could bring it to his lips, Wensleydale interrupted.

“I think you have to give a toast,” He adjusted his glasses, “When my mum throws parties like this for my dad, he has to give a toast with his wine.”

“It would be nice to thank the children for doing this for you,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Guest of honor and I still have to do the work,” Crowley grumbled. “All right,” he held up his glass, “To having friends – even when they don't listen to you,” he let his glasses slip so that his eyes were staring straight into Adam's. It was meant to be an intimidation tactic on most people, but all of the Them were always delighted when he did it. “So I thank you for all your hard work and willingness to celebrate me and ask that we never – and I do mean it, so please don't get confused – we never do this again.”

“Yes, Crowley,” The Them chorused, though they all noted that Crowley didn't actually look unhappy. Still, all four had more than once had a talking to from their parents about respecting boundaries. And so now they all looked a little worried.

Noticing that, Crowley sighed. “Thank you lot for what you did,” he was cursing this odd weakness he'd always had for kids. “I do appreciate it. Now,” he handed his glass back to Aziraphale and rubbed his hands together in an over the top way, “I was promised presents.”

He sat down on his couch and waited for the presents to be brought to him. 

“This one's from us,” Adam indicated himself and the rest of the Them, who nodded solemnly. 

Crowley opened the rather poorly wrapped present to find a leather jacket inside. It looked a little well worn, but still serviceable. 

“We went to a bunch of charity shops to find it,” Pepper explained, “look at the back!”

He flipped it around to find “Crowley” has been stitched in with crooked red lettering and a snake design had been messily painted on the back. 

“We took turns sewing the letters,” Wensleydale explained, “And Brian did the snake painting on the back. Adam explained to us what you really look like-”

“And I painted it based on that,” Brian finished. “Do you like it?” 

“Like it?” Crowley paused, taking a deep breath. It wouldn't do for him to show too many emotions. It was messy, it was crooked, it was imperfect – and he loved it. “It's all right. I think I'll wear it around sometimes, anyway,” he took his current jacket off and traded it for the new one. 

“This is from Anathema and I,” Newt offered, handing over a small package. Then, surprising even Newt, Anathema handed him a tiny gold box.

“That one's not from us,” she explained. “Agnes wrote it for you. In the new book. It was hidden away. I don't even know what it says. She gave me a guide on how to find it, then I was to wrap it up to look nice and give it to you.”

“I'm not sure that one counts as a present,” he said darkly, dropping it on the table as though it had burned his hand. Instead, he opened the gift from Anathema and Newt – a pair of sunglasses almost identical to his current ones, but with dark red lenses. He also quickly trades his current pair for the new ones. 

“Thank you all,” he said sincerely, reclining back into his seat.

“But what about Mr. Aziraphale's gift!” Adam exclaimed, running over to Aziraphale and taking his hand to lead him back to Crowley. 

“You have something for me, angel?” Crowley looked amused. “I didn't get you anything for your tea party.”

“You showing up for the party was present enough,” Aziraphale explained. “I didn't think you'd go for it.”

“Well, it was all right. Tea was decent enough.”

Anathema cleared her throat. She hadn't know the pair that long, but she now knew that if they started really going back and forth like this it was like the others weren't even there. The conversations were always innocent in nature, but the two could become laser focused on each other. “Did you bring the present? I don't think I saw anything else?”

In response, Aziraphale waved his hands. A gramophone appeared in his arms, which he immediately handed to Crowley.

“You got me an antique.”

“Well, yes, but I made some modifications. With the Them's help, of course,” he nodded in the kids' direction. “Try turning it on – it already has a record in it, but I think you'll find it's not quite what it appears.”

Crowley placed it on the table and fiddled with the needle.

“I'm afraid you will still have to crank it,” Aziraphale explained. “Didn't want to go overboard with the miracles.”

Crowley sighed, adjusted the needle and record and then started turning the crank, occasionally pausing to make faces at the party guests. 

“Why don't you just make it work?” Brian suggested. 

Crowley ignored the suggestion and continued to crank before turning the gramophone on. Queen's “Find Me Somebody To Love” started playing.

“Well, thank you, but I do have quite a lot of Queen tapes,” Crowley pointed out. 

“That's not all that's on there, though. But I remembered your fondness for Mr. Mercury so it has all of Queen on it.”

_find me somebody to love, love  
find me, find me, find me, find me..._

Queen faded out, only to be replaced by

_Oh hush my dear, it's been a difficult year  
and terrors don't prey on  
Innocent victims_

“What is this?” Crowley had never heard this song before and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

“Imagine Dragons,” Adam explained, “They're an American group.”

“It's a newer be-bop group. Thought you might like it,” Aziraphale explained. “They suggested it,” though it came across now as more an accusation. “But you can skip forward. There's some other songs that are older you might like.”

Crowley did as he was asked

_666 the number of the beast!_

“I thought you might like some of the music my dad likes,” Brian explained. “He says Iron Maiden's the best but not to bother with the years Dickinson wasn't the singer for.”

Well, that was more like it, Crowley had to admit, even if that particular song felt a little on the nose. “Thank you, Aziraphale. And uh...thank you lot for helping him to find some different 'be-bop'” he said the last word so that they could all tell he was rolling his eyes behind those dark glasses. “I suppose we better all get into that cake now, eh?”

Everyone left a few hours later, though Aziraphale last as he had stayed to tidy up the place. After they'd all gone, Crowley studied the gramophone intently. It was a kind gift. Very Aziraphale in nature, even if he'd misunderstood a lot of what Crowley liked. 

Suddenly, the crank on the side started turning itself.  
_Climb every mountain...  
cross every stream..._

He instinctively scooted away from it, accidentally pushing it off the table and onto the floor where a few of the pieces broke off. Before he could do anything about it, it popped itself back on the table, fully mended. 

_Follow every rainbow  
Til you find your_

_Hello, Crowley_

This wasn't Hell. This was a voice he hadn't heard in thousands of years. And had it not for Armageddon having been averted just weeks ago, he might have received that voice with reverence. Instead, he felt irritation.

“Now what did _you_ want?”

_I need something from you. I need you to do something._

“I'm not on your side anymore. I got cast out, remember? Fallen and all that.”

_You didn't fall. You just sauntered downwards, right?_

“I still got the boot, didn't I?” He snorted. “You've got some nerve. Leaving all of that mess to some kids and Angel and I to fix and now you want help? And why me, anyway? Why not Aziraphale?”

_I have my reasons. I needed you to be somewhere else or you wouldn't be able to help. There are things going on in Heaven, Crowley. Aziraphale would be happy to help me, but if the others know he's involved it will tip my hand early. You're better at sneaking around._

“You're not giving me a good reason to help.”

_How about this, then? Beelzebub and Gabriel have been working together._

“Those two? They hate each other even more than most angels and demons do. What could they have in common?”

_They both wanted Armageddon. They believe they can find a way to right what went wrong._

“So step in and stop them. You're still the Almighty, aren't you?”

_I have ways of doing things Crowley. This is my way. I need you to do this. For the sake of the world. And for Aziraphale. You'll both be the first casualties if they get their way._

Crowley put his head in his hands, thinking. “Fine. You're a right bastard, you know that?”

_Yes, but that's something we have in common._

Crowley nodded his agreement. He wanted desperately for all of this to be done, and to just be left to enjoy the parts of the world he liked. But that wasn't the way of the world, especially not for him. “Fine. I'll be your little errand boy, but after this we're done, right?”

_I'll leave both of you alone and make certain both Heaven and Hell do as well_

“Your word,” Crowley insisted, “Not just me and the angel. You leave the rest of us alone after this, too. Anyone who was in this apartment today, when this is all over they don't get dragged in again. Especially not those kids.”

_You have my Word._

“Fine. Tell me what I need to do.”


	2. Sneaky Snakey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the subterfuge begin! Though while Crowley's skulking around on God's errands, others are already starting to pick up on the fact that things are Not Quite Right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, ideas! Went with they/them pronouns for Beelzebub. I know there was a joking thing from Neil Gaimain saying they use "zzzzzzir" but since that was a joke I'm going with they/them. I went with she for Michael though I may change that to they/them later (I couldn't find canon pronouns and not sure about making only bad characters nonbinary for this)

Newt sat back at the table, not noticing that his tea had grown cold. He couldn't figure out where to begin with his question, so he had swallowed it down since Crowley's party, but found that it kept repeating on him, trying to come up. Finally, he pushed the tea away and jumped up from his seat. “I thought we burned that book.” He hadn't meant it to be accusing, not really. But it still came out that way. 

Anathema looked only slightly guilty. “We did.” He waited for her to continue, but she just turned back to chopping up the vegetables for dinner. 

“Well?” he prodded.

She put the knife down and turned back toward him. “We did burn it. And...” now she looked truly guilty. “And I went back to where we burned it and there was one scrap left in the fire. You know Agnes had to have predicted that, right?” she didn't wait for an argument. “So I picked it up, and it's what lead me to the box for Crowley. I don't know what's in it. You know how Agnes could be about people opening things from her that weren't intended for them.”

That was certainly true. He felt placated, but only for a moment. “Why didn't you just tell me?”

“I thought you'd be upset. I told you I was done being a Professional Descendant and then I couldn't resist looking to see if any of the new book hadn't burned up.”

Newt just shrugged. “I mean, I don't mind. I wouldn't have made fun of you or anything,” he picked his cup of tea off the table and took a long swig before almost spitting it out. “Blech. Cold tea,” he dropped the cup in the sink. “What did the part that led you to the box for Crowley say? Anything else we should be worried about?”

Anathema rocked a little on the spot, biting her lip. “Nothing else about us, I promise. It just led me to the box. How long should it be taking us to reach London?”

The sudden shift in topic threw Newt off momentarily. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, when you and I go to London by ourselves it can sometimes take hours if the traffic's bad enough, right?” He nodded. “Did you notice when we drove there yesterday it took ten minutes?”

“I thought the pleasant company just made the time feel like it went faster,” Newt was trying to be charming. And if Anathema weren't so worried, it might have worked. 

“It didn't just feel like it,” she shook her head so vigorously that some of her hair started to spill out of her bun, “It actually took ten minutes. I checked.”

“Maybe Aziraphale worked a miracle to get us there faster?” It wasn't a new idea for him. He'd noticed each time they'd gone how impossibly easy the trips had gone and how they had arrived at their destination much sooner than they should have. But he'd been worrying that maybe his inability with computers had somehow shifted so that it infected clocks as well, so he hadn't wanted to be the one to bring it up. 

“It's happened before. But only when I end up there because Adam wants me there.”

“So,” Newt said as comprehension dawned on him, “You think he still has his powers? I thought he got rid of them since he made his dad his real dad and the other guy,” he pointed down “he told to get lost?”

“He did, and it's like his powers went away for a little while, but then they came back almost immediately. And if Adam still has his powers...”

“Then is he still the AntiChrist?”

Crowley usually didn't bother with it, but he could sneak and skulk with the best of them. The first assignment – it hadn't been spelled out that it was a first, but Crowley knew, whether by experience or instinct, that it was just one of many – was to sneak his way into Hell. 

Now, glamours don't usually work on demons. But they only expect humans or angels to bother with such tricks. The best way to hide is often to be front and center. A minor miracle and Crowley looked like just any ordinary demon – no glasses, no snake eyes, no red hair and the hardest part, no sauntering walk. Instead he slouched himself over as though the very weight of the air were oppressive to him. Not a hard feat in a place that smelled so foul.

As promised, God had beamed the knowledge of where to go directly into his mind, though She still refused to answer why she couldn't do this Herself or even tell him what exactly was going on. 

He weaved in and out of the aimless crowds until he reached a hidden area under a stairwell. He knew this room well – he used to give most of his presentations in here. Crowley had received a commendation for that as well, the invention of the Work Meeting That Could Have Been an Email – not that he'd ever managed to get the other demons to learn how to use email. 

He was a little irked to find that it now looked like a broom closet. All the more insulting since demons weren't known to clean. He closed the door behind him and started searching, grumbling the word 'ineffable' as he went, cursing that he didn't even know what he was looking for. He slipped on a wet floor sign (that for some reason was lying on the floor completely soaked) and landed on his butt. “Damn it,” he muttered, glancing around to make certain no one had heard. 

No one was reacting as though they had, but he saw a shadow fall across the bottom of the door way. He scooted back against the wall and tried to cover himself as best as he could with miscellaneous brooms, mops and buckets. He managed to block himself in so that he could still peer out, but someone would have to know to be looking for him to find him. 

“You're late,” This was Micheal, who appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the room. Crowley was trying to quickly think up an excuse, but she didn't seem to be talking to him.

“I'm a demon,” Hastur grumbled, closing the door behind him as he joined her. “Isn't timeliness close to godliness or something?”

“That's _cleanliness_ , though it seems your lot isn't doing a good job on that part, either. So I guess that's good for a demon.”

“Right, right,” Hastur waved the insult away, “Beelzebub said they're too busy for this.”

“Gabriel said he was too busy,” Michael responded. “Though I think maybe he just didn't want to come here,” she made a face. “How is it that the room for holding your cleaning supplies is somehow even worse than the other rooms? What are you even doing with this room if you aren't going to use it?”

“I dunno. Maybe a new torture idea,” he quickly opened the door to glance around, then shut it again. “No one's listening. What else has to be done?”

“The new riders are selected,” she smirked. “It took quite a bit of work, but we figured it out. Won't even have to get the old ones out, aside from well...You know.”

He nodded darkly. “And how do you get the kid to go along with it? Why does he still have his powers anyway? Shouldn't your side have removed it from him?”

“Why would we be the ones to deal in demonic power? No, that was your side's screw up, not heaven's,” she lifted her head proudly. “As agents of God we can't be the ones to have messed this up. Had to have been your side.”

Hastur's hand burned for a moment, but Michael miracled a glass of holy water into her own hand. “If you want to play around with mutually assured destruction, I promise we will still come out on top.”

He extinguished his hand. “But hang on,” he said, “If it's mutually assured wouldn't that mean both sides get taken out?”

Crowley had to fight back the urge to say “Good for you, Hastur, a cogent thought!”

Michael crossed her arms. “Anyway, back to The Great Plan,”

“Ineffable,” Crowley muttered softly from his hiding place. Luckily neither of them seemed to hear him.

“So, he still has his powers and he's still on for the part. Why can't we just kill him and get another one?”

“Because then we have to start over. At least eleven more years of waiting,” her hand twitched, “Gabriel may not come out and say it, but we all know that the Great Plan was corrupted, mostly by your man Crowley.”

“Seems your guy Aziraphale had a hand in it.”

“Humanity needs to come to an end. There time was supposed to have been over by now. This will not only sort out the battle between Heaven and Hell, it will finally put this planet to rest and we can move on with things. Not sure why She's so fond of the place.”

“Now we're on the same page. Burn it all down, I say,” his hand was on fire again.

“Not yet. If we rush it again we may end up running into more trouble. The riders are selected, but I will need demon assistance with their corruption.”

“I'll get someone on it. Give me the names.”

Crowley found himself leaning forward. That would at least be a nice start for some thwarting, them just handing the identities away like that. But he wasn't that lucky.

“No. Not here. Not yet. Soon.”

“Don't see why we have to wait,” he sniffed.

“We're working backwards here. This is one of the last pieces – we plan each part out carefully, then work back so there are no loose ends. I trust at our next meeting you'll be on time?” she disappeared without a goodbye.

“Yeah, right. Be on time for a meeting with heavenly forces,” Hastur muttered to himself as he left the room. 

Crowley waited for what felt like hours. He hadn't worn his watch as even that had been a custom piece that might have gotten him recognized. Hadn't thought to swap it for a replacement because he usually brought a phone, and he'd left his phone off and in his car parked several streets away (and glamoured, disgustingly enough, as a Ford Fiesta). He finally chanced moving again, sneaking out as stealthily as he snuck in. 

Fortune seemed to be back on his side as he clambered back into his car without incident. He turned on the radio expectantly, but no voice of God filled his car. 

“Well? I did your bloody errand, what's the next task?” he waited. No answer. “Oh son of a...” he beat his hands against the steering wheel. “You do know what happened back there, right Almighty? That's your job, to see everything? You could at least say 'so glad no one caught you and dumped you in holy water'.” 

No answer came. He drove home, frustrated and disgusted with the whole situation and with a burning desire to call Aziraphale and complain to him. But no, if he told Aziraphale the angel would want to help. And might even be a little jealous that Head Office had gone to Crowley and bypassed Aziraphale completely. 

Better to keep this one close to his chest, at least for now.

Adam was having trouble sleeping. Not entirely unusual for an active eleven year old, but this had started with a feeling of worry down at the pit of his stomach. He'd first misdiagnosed himself with hunger. Half an hour and two bowls of ice cream later, he still had the worry but now he also had a stomachache. 

Dog curled up at the foot of his bed, but he wasn't sleeping either. Dogs, even hellhounds, can sense their master's upset. He whined and scooted into Adam, nudging his nose against Adam's hand. “I thought it went away, Dog. Or that I'd figured out how to control it. But it's not over and I don't want my friends to get scared again. I don't want to lose control again.”

Dog whimpered and Adam smiled as reassuringly as he could.

“It'll be all right. I'll go see Anathema tomorrow. She'll know what to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blazed through my rewatch of Good Omens already and thankfully that gave me more ideas. So maybe I'll have a consistent update schedule, but I make no promises. Hope you enjoy.


	3. Be Not Afraid - Well, Maybe a Little Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which fears are discussed but probably not alleviated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, more writing. Yay!

“I have no idea what to do,” Anathema admitted after Adam unloaded all of his fears on her. He was supposed to be in school right now, but he'd got on his bike to go then doubled back to get to Jasmine Cottage. He hadn't even told the Them he was going.

“But you're a witch, and an adult! You _must_ have some ideas. Turn me into a frog or something, that way I can't hurt anyone,” he shut his eyes tight, “I'll turn myself into one, that's what I'll do. And you can put me in one of those aquarium box things and Wensley will take care of me. Just until it's all over.”

Nothing happened.

“I can't turn you into a frog,” Anathema said gently. “And I don't know why your powers didn't go away. But Adam, last time you chose not to do anything bad. You came back from it and you didn't destroy the world. Why don't you think you can beat it again?”

“Last time didn't feel as scary,” he struggled to find the right words. “Last time it started with knowing I could change things the way I want them, but this time I can still make things happen but it feels like they're happening to me instead of because of me. I've been trying not to do any of the things the other Them can't, but they happen anyway even if I don't try to make them. I rode my bike over to Mr. Aziraphale's the other day, and it only took me-”

“Ten minutes,” Anathema and Newt finished for him.

“Yes, we'd noticed,” Newt admitted. “Us too. When we went for the surprise party for Crowley, only ten minutes driving.”

“I didn't mean to,” Adam said earnestly. Newt put a hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He'd always liked when his mother had done it to him, but he felt somehow that he wasn't doing it correctly. 

“Do you think we should tell Crowley and Aziraphale?” Newt suggested. “They're a bit closer to all of this then the rest of us. They might be able to help?”

“It's worth a try,” Anathema agreed. “But Adam, aren't you supposed to be in school right now?”

“This was more important,” he said insistently. “It couldn't wait, I swear.”

Anathema was no fan of the school system anyway, so she didn't fight him. Newt looked uncomfortable, though. “All right. Well, we'll just get on over to the bookshop and see what Aziraphale thinks.”

It's a lie to say that no one knows the innermost thoughts of God. Whales have been trying to tell humans for ages, but humans just record the lovely whale songs and use them to try to get themselves a better night of sleep. Cats know, but have decided that humans wouldn't be able to handle it. Dogs know, but they keep getting too distracted to come out with it. 

Humans sometimes can come close to it, but they've never quite gotten there.

The ones least able to fathom the mind of the Almighty these days were the uppermost echelons of angels. Gabriel, Micheal, Sandalphon, even the voice of God, the Metatron, were all puzzled that the Great Plan hadn't gone off as they'd always expected. Despite Aziraphale's insistence that they should realize it was the Ineffable Plan, they had gotten it into their heads that Crowley and Aziraphale had managed to undo all of God's careful planning.

“Don't know how they managed it,” Gabriel grumbled yet again as he swapped out his pearl tailored jacket for a pure white one. “Has anyone been able to get through to Her?”

Everyone shook their heads. “I have not been able to reach her. I have not been asked to speak for her.” The Metatron responded. 

“What do you think it could mean?” Michael asked. They were sitting in an upper board room in heaven. It was so high up that the only view out of the perfectly clear windows was clouds. Gabriel was the only one standing (if one does not count The Metatron, who could only project his head – though even that was floating above an office chair). 

“We have to consider that somehow those two may have figured out how to cut us all off from God,” he put his arms behind his back as he paced, thinking aloud. “We know She knows all, and She is above being corrupted. But Her not answering _us_ , her most ..beloved and devoted? No, those two did something, I'm sure of it.”

“But how could they have?”Uriel shook her head. “That doesn't seem possible.”

“An angel surviving hell fire and a demon surviving holy water wasn't supposed to be possible either,” he slammed his hands down on the table. “We have to continue with the plan as we've decided, even if we do have to work with,” he paused to shudder, “demons.” He spat the word out.

“I just don't know,” Uriel tried again. “I agree the world should have come to an end, but how can we be certain we're doing the right thing? Demons can't be trusted.”

Michael leaned forward in her chair and put a hand on Uriel's shoulder. “We can be sure because God is all knowing. She knows what we're up to. If She didn't want us to be doing this, She would already be stopping us, wouldn't she?”

_The hills are alive  
with the sound of music_

“I am going to break this stupid thing,” Crowley glared at the gramophone, knowing what was coming next.

_Everything went all right, Crowley?_

“Why are you even asking me? You already know, don't you?”

_Yes, but I don't want to show off. Getting you close to see it for yourself should have removed any doubt I was lying to you._

“You're God, you don't lie. You just play games with the universe, right?” He set his feet up on the coffee table and leaned himself back on his couch. “One that only you know the rules for.”

_I can't tell you the names of the riders._

“What, is it going to be some big surprise? If you give me the names maybe I could do something about them before this all goes down again. Is Adam going to be involved?”

 _Yes, he is. And you may be about to suggest that you kill him, but we both know you're too fond of him for that. And that it isn't your thing to kill children._

“Yeah, I've been wanting to talk to you for a while about that flood you only saved Noah and his family from, by the way-”

 _We don't have time. Not now. And before you say that I am God and therefore not bound by the laws of time, that is true, but I need you to act and you_ are _bound by those laws, even if it is by less than the average human or even demon. Took you a lot of power to stop time to help Adam out, right?_

“You know, I got cast out just for asking questions. Why do you get to ask so many? Especially the kind you know the answer to?”

He waited for an answer, but none was coming. While waiting, his eyes fell on the box with Agnes's prediction. Sighing, he grabbed the box and opened, only to find a small index card with the words:

“Be not afraid, even when dragons bane is brandished by thine enemy. A new revelation awaits ye.”

“Well, lovely sentiment there, Agnes, but fat lot of help,” he tossed the card down, not even bothering to pick it up when it fell on the floor. “Always hated the book of Revelations. Worst book of the whole Bible, if you ask me.”

 _I'm not fond of the book of Job myself,_ God offered.

“Why do you only talk through the gramophone? Hell uses the radio, it's a lot more efficient. Or you could...I don't know, text? You're the Almighty, surely you didn't use up all your imagination creating thousands of types of beetles?”

_I have allowed Gabriel and the others to set up the rules of contact between myself and anyone who isn't an angel. I can only contact a demon like yourself through something Heaven touched, or they would be alerted._

“You mean because Aziraphale made some changes to this thing you're allowed to talk to me through it without it going on their radar?” He groaned. “If I'd known that I'd have given him the damn thing back! Does Aziraphale know about that rule?”

_Probably. He's the only one who reads all of the notices that get sent out from Heaven. And reads through all of the Terms of Agreements for electronic devices. But he wouldn't expect me to contact you, and probably wouldn't expect you to answer me._

“Yeah, well, you've insisted that he and I are at risk if I don't, so I don't have much choice there anyway, do I? What's the next job?”

_I need you to go to Heaven._

“Oh, ok, you want me to commit suicide,” he kicked at the table, just hard enough to jostle the gramophone without tossing it off. “Aziraphale could go in with less trouble-”

_Not after his trial he couldn't. And he'll want to talk to the others to see if there's some way to work out a peaceful resolution. My will has been done by the angels since before time began, but that means they know all the loopholes. If I speak to an angel, any of them, there are records. Same if I talk to humans, those are recorded as prayer._

“But you don't talk to demons and the angels see us as so low they never considered you'd _want_ to talk to one of us,” Crowley finished for her. Most demons didn't have an imagination, but that made it sound like angels did. But rather, angels could only imagine things where they inevitable came out on top with humans just below them and demons much further down. “But you could still tell me what do do.”

_I am telling you as I need to tell you, Crowley. Have faith._

_With songs they have song  
for a thousand years_

“Have faith She says,” he grimaced, getting himself up from the couch to pour himself several glasses of wine. “Wants me to break into heaven and have 'faith'” He poured the first glass, downed it, then went directly for the bottle rather than pour more. He pulled out his phone to start to dial Aziraphale and then put it back down, cursing himself and God for this one. 

“I'll tell him when it's all over. Provided we all survive it this time,” he chugged the rest of the bottle, opened a new bottle and drank that, too. He went back to the couch with a 3rd bottle and sat down, grabbing the card from Agnes off the floor. “Well, Agnes, I am already not following your advice because I am well and truly afraid and I can't even warn the others about how shit-pantsingly terrified they should be.” He drank the last bottle and curled up and fell asleep.


	4. Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aziraphale is a worrier and Crowley sneaks into heaven

Aziraphale was worried. 

Well, more worried than he usually was, anyway. He had spent a great many years worrying. Humans had therapy, but angels didn't. He'd gotten curious and tried it once, but had left when the psychiatrist had made it clear she hadn't believed anything he said and seemed pretty keen on having him committed. Of course, maybe starting off by admitting his angelic nature had been a mistake. 

He'd thought originally they might get some reprieve. It hadn't been that long since the last try at ending the world, couldn't get a few months to enjoy the place? Or years? Centuries sounded like a wonderful idea to him. But he could sense them moving. He wasn't as close to it as he used to be, but he liked to think that maybe the Almighty was trying to send him advanced warning to help him prepare.

In truth, whether She had sent them or not, what he was sensing was the angels and demons that took shifts watching him from far off. There were wards that could make one invisible even to angels, but the problem was it couldn't keep them from sensing you completely. And since Aziraphale was such a worrier the universe rewarded him by giving him something to worry about, letting him feel the spies even if he couldn't see them. He reached for his phone to dial Crowley, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Ten minutes after they'd left Jasmine Cottage, Anathema, Newt and Adam had all arrived. They'd called ahead of time but he hadn't answered. Adam had left Dog behind in order to arouse less suspicion from his parents. 

Aziraphale let them in, but spared a glance behind them trying to locate whatever was troubling him. No luck, but he knew it was there. He frowned at the seemingly normal day and shut and locked the door. 

He'd always been fond of humans, but he particularly enjoyed this group. Sometimes it was nice to have company outside of Crowley. And Adam and his friends were a delight – little monsters, the whole lot of them, but in the sweet, harmless way children often are. They were even better now that Aziraphale had convinced them to pick up after themselves whenever they came to his shop.

He frowned. “Isn't it a school day?”

“There are more important things,” Anathema insisted. “We tried to call Crowley, too, but he didn't answer.” Nothing unusual there. He rarely answered calls from anyone other than Aziraphale, but he'd still show up wherever he was asked to go, complaining the whole time that he had things to do. “I texted him to meet us here?”she said that part expectantly, but Aziraphale shook his head.

“It's been a few days since I've heard from him,”Aziraphale admitted. That in itself wasn't too worrying. They'd gone centuries without speaking before, though now usually less than a week since those marvelous little cell phones had been invented. 

“We may need his help as well,” Newt suggested, pulling out his own phone and texting Crowley. There was no reason to do it – Anathema had already had it covered. But to Newt's mind, Crowley had a sort of swagger that he would like to learn, and he was a bit stoked to have a demon's phone number (even if it had been given to him by Adam, and without his asking Crowley's permission first). 

“I'm still doing things. It takes us ten minutes to get here from my house, every time,” Adam launched right into it. He hated the way adults made small talk and asked everyone if they wanted tea. Unless biscuits were going to be offered, he'd rather just dive right into it. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale thought for a moment. “Any chance your car is just exceptionally fast?”

“It takes me ten minutes to get here on a bike, too,” Adam said before Newt could answer.

“Ah. That-That should definitely not be possible,” The car ride wasn't possible, either, but a bike going that far that fast was much more impressive. “Any other signs?” he glanced at Anathema. “You gave Crowley that prediction the other day. Were there any others?”

“I burned the book,” she said, looking embarrassed. He had a sudden moment of knowing exactly what his face had looked like when he had admitted to Crowley that he'd given Adam and Eve the flaming sword. “I didn't think we'd be facing another end of days so soon.”

“It's all right,” he said comfortingly. “I'll get some tea on,” noticing the face Adam made, he hastily added “and I've made some lovely cake – chocolate icing. Don't suppose you'd like a slice?”

Adam smiled and happily trailed behind Aziraphale to the back room. A quick snap of the fingers and everyone was settled in with a slice of cake and in the most comfortable chairs they'd ever sat in. “Now, I suppose it's best we get right into it,” he took a bite of cake and directed his attention to Adam. 

“slike zis,” Adam started with a full mouth, but then seemed to think better of it. His parents didn't know what Aziraphale was, but if his mum ever found out he'd spoken to an angel with his mouth full she would probably never get over the embarrassment. He swallowed. “Mostly it's just a feeling. Getting here so fast is the only thing that I noticed so far, but ...but I swear, it's coming,” he looked pleadingly at Aziraphale. 

“I believe you completely, dear boy,” the angel assured him. “I must say that I've had my own sense that trouble's brewing, though like you I can't quite get a handle on where it's coming from,” he pulled his phone out and made a face. “And a certain demon is not answering, but I would like to get his opinion on this,”

“You're sure no one's taken him or something?” Newt wasn't as practiced as Aziraphale at worrying, but he was almost as good at it. 

“Be pretty hard to take him. Devil's own luck, as they say,” Aziraphale said cheerfully. But then his face fell. “But they did grab us once, so I suppose it's not impossible...” he dialed Crowley and started pacing while it rang. 

“Not a good time, angel.” Crowley hung up about as quickly as he'd answered. 

“Well, that was him, anyway,” he frowned. “So he's all right, but I can't see what he could be up to that's so important.”

What Crowley was up to was trying to get the nerve up to go to Heaven. Not the way a human might, of course. No, to go through the front entrance the way he used to before he'd fallen. He knew the way in, but he kept feeling like he was going to psych himself out. Once again God had refused to give him details of what he was looking for. Just a vague image of what part of heaven he was supposed to sneak into. 

He was about to turn around and say screw it all when the phone rang. He let it ring twice before answering. “Not a good time, angel.” he said before hanging up. But he'd heard the little huff Aziraphale had given when he hung up on him. It was a mixture of frustration, anger and worry. They hadn't been out of contact long enough for Aziraphale to be worried about him (or so he thought, wrongly) so Crowley reasoned that if Aziraphale was worried something else was going on. Which might mean that Aziraphale was coming close to realizing the pieces were already starting to move in the latest war. 

Which meant he would get involved.

Crowley didn't like the thought of that. He had been promised they would be left alone after all this, so it stood to reason that if he got everything done God wanted to they could get back to their lives. 

Angels don't ward against glamours. They think they can see everything. And in truth, they can – but only when they bother to look. The problem with that is that right now, most of heaven has convinced itself that it's too important, too powerful for anyone to ever dare to try to sneak in. Once again he couldn't saunter, but now he had to hold his head up high, proudly, looking very self important. He tried to make a similar face to the one he'd always seen Gabriel wear, but the very feel made him want to punch himself. 

So he changed his face a bit more – his hair was golden blond now, eyes blue and no longer hidden behind shades. He hadn't worn solid white without at least a black tie in such a long time that his clothes were more startling to him in his reflection than any of the rest of him. The faint glow effect was also disconcerting. 

He couldn't use Crowley up here, but he wasn't about to use his old name, either. Heaven has a long memory, after all. He'd decided to go by Nathaniel if anyone asked, but he knew deep down no one would. If you were in Heaven, you must belong there. They didn't make mistakes, after all.

He took the escalator up, trying to push down the urge to just run up, dash through and get the hell – or rather, the heaven – out. When he reached the top he took a right. His feet knew where to go, even after all this time. To the Records Room. 

He didn't know what he was looking for. He had some vague idea that God knew but for some reason couldn't tell him Herself and that was making him angry. What was the point of being all powerful if you couldn't just tell someone “Hey, here's what to thwart, get it done by doing this and you'll be all set by tea time”? 

But the Record Room didn't look like it should. There were the file cabinets, of course. And the whole room was clean and so bright that he'd wished he'd kept his sunglasses on, no matter how quickly they would have given him away. No, what drew his interest was the three smoking vials on top of one cabinet. 

They were all a dark, poisonous looking green and he had a vague notion he'd seen it somewhere before. He was tempted to break the bottles, but thought better of it. It was always possible it was a trap and that it would either alert everyone else to his being there or that it was disguised holy water. He had the sense to know that this was what he was looking for, but he had no clue what they were or what they were going to be used for. But they certainly didn't look like angelic. 

He dared to pick one bottle up, holding it up toward the light to better examine it. The contents inside oozed and turned the same shade as his eyes – his real ones, not the baby blues he was currently hiding behind. He put it back hastily. He couldn't decide if he was supposed to take them with him or not. He thought he should, but God hadn't told him to take anything, just to go to the records room and “Come and See”. 

He let himself out. He'd seen enough and coming here was awful. He kept his head up as he made his way back toward the elevator, but stopped and thought better of it when he caught sight of Gabriel. Or what should have been Gabriel.

Crowley wasn't as self assured as angels. He knew not to trust them – so he didn't fall for the same glamours they did. So he could see that it was actually Hastur dressed up as Gabriel and talking to Michael – Michael, for her part, was actually her same angelic self. He sidled up as close as he dared to get to them.

“I left them in the records room, all right?” Hastur said in his own voice. He wasn't even attempting to sound like Gabriel.

“Good,” Michael nodded, “We'll add the last bits to it before we give it back and you can do what I told you to,” It was a little obvious now she was enjoying bossing around someone with Gabriel's face. For once, Crowley couldn't blame her.

It seemed heaven was taking the lead in planning this time. That was concerning. They were smarter up here, with a few exceptions. Crowley tried to lean in closer.

“What are you doing?” Michael demanded. Crowley glanced around. 

“Me?” He pointed at himself innocently. 

“Yes. What are you up to?”

“Ah. Yes. Well, I am from the rainbow department. Just trying to get inspiration, thinking about making a new color – well, God might make a new color, I just implement it, don't I?” He was doing as best as he could to appear both haughty and stupid at the same time. Actually, an easier feat than one might expect. 

“Then you should get back with the other rainbow makers,” Michael hissed at him. He was momentarily impressed. He'd never heard an angel hiss before. The snake inside him wanted to show her how it was really done, but he pushed that part away. 

“Ah, yes, I will just be going now,” he headed back towards where he was pretty sure the rainbow makers had been stationed, then circled back around to the escalators only after he felt sure they weren't watching him anymore. 

_That was a close one_ , he only allowed himself to think after he was back in his flat.


	5. Apple Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's come around with a simple enough request. But of course he's up to something. Crowley has an even more frustrating conversation with God.

Angels have been around Forever. Demons technically have as well, but when they first started they were angels, too, so it doesn't really count. Patience was a learned practice for all of them, or at least it should have been. They were rushing it this time. Last time they'd used thousands of years of planning and everything had fallen to pieces mere inches from the finish line. It was making all of the angels antsy – this time they were going to get into things as quickly as they could. 

But that didn't mean they couldn't find the time to bother someone.

Normally Gabriel wouldn't show his irritation. Or in the old days he might have found someone he could smite without the Almighty getting upset at him. But that was the old days. Smiting just wasn't the way of things anymore, and since they were working with demons he couldn't even take it out on them. Still, he had to bother _someone_ , get under their skin the way that failed Armageddon was under his.

Which is why he was now at Aziraphale's door, a basket in hand. 

Aziraphale's eyes went wide when he'd answered – assuming that Crowley had finally showed up to start discussing things he hadn't even bothered to check before opening the door. He tensed up at the sight of the archangel. 

“Gabriel,” he squeaked out, motioning desperately behind his hands for the others to hide. “Whatever could bring you here? I did think heaven and I were on the uh...outs, so to speak these days.”

“Nonsense!” Gabriel said jovially, taking great pleasure in watching Aziraphale squirm. He'd already sensed the humans there – and Adam, for that matter. He was only a little surprised – he was actually more surprised Crowley wasn't here, but he figured that was actually a point in his favor. “You know, I just got it into my head – you've been living here since?”

“Since the beginning,” Aziraphale answered automatically, now trying to shut the door in Gabriel's face. Gabriel pushed the door open wider and let himself in. “Now really isn't a good time. Perhaps you could come back later?” His tone strongly implied that 'later' actually meant 'never'.

“Ah, but then you wouldn't be able to introduce me to your friends,” Some people might have described Gabriel's smile as he said that as being 'snake-like'. Aziraphale knew better. Snakes only attacked in self defense or out of hunger. This was the smile that only belonged to the type of predator that played with its food.

Aziraphale considered playing stupid – the words “what humans” almost came out of his mouth, but before he could make that mistake, Adam came out from behind one of the bookshelves.

“You're one of them angels,” he made a face, “You tried to get me to go along with it and destroy everyone.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. “And I am so sorry,” The apology sounded sincere, yet the words also sounded like they were ...dripping. “I am here to make amends, though I suppose it's not the best way to do it. See, I also have just a teeny, tiny little favor I'd like to ask of you, Aziraphale.”

“He's not one of you anymore,” Adam crossed the room, trying to station himself between the angels. Anathema came out of her own hiding place to grab him, Newt trailing just behind her. She managed to grab Adam and pull him back, but he continued scowling, making half-hearted attempts to get out of her grip. 

“Aziraphale can handle himself,” she said reassuringly. Adam couldn't see her face – which was pointed at Aziraphale and trying to communicate the question 'can you handle this?' without having to come out and say it. Aziraphale just thought she looked a little constipated.

“It's just a quick lesson,” Gabriel said, holding up his basket. He pulled the small towel covering the contents to the side. “I have some very nice apples and I thought, well, I had hoped to make an apple pie. But I've never actually baked before,” he turned his full attention back to Aziraphale and ignored the others. “I thought you could help me? It's my understanding you're pretty fond of human food, so you could help me get it exactly right.”

“Pies can be a bit tricky,” Aziraphale agreed. “But apple pie's a bit ...American. Wouldn't you rather an apple crumble? Ooh, or a nice spiced cake – one with caramel or toffee icing, perhaps?”

“No,” Gabriel said shortly, looking annoyed. He had planned for Aziraphale to be on guard and scared the whole time. Not launching into a bunch of other dessert ideas. “It really should be an apple pie. Heard so much about it.”

“He doesn't have the ingredients,” Newt was trying to come to the rescue, but he was thinking in human terms again. 

Gabriel moved the basket of apples so that he only gripped it in one hand, did a complicated gesture with the other hand and now he had a basket with anything else one could need to make an apple pie – including a very nice pie tin. 

“He'll help you with the pie,” Adam decided for them, “But then you have to leave. And you can't bother Aziraphale ever again. Do you promise?” Gabriel nodded. “I mean it. You're an angel – you can't just make a promise and then do it anyway.”

Gabriel smiled. “You have my word as an angel – I will never, ever, bother Aziraphale and his little book shop ever again.”

Adam and Aziraphale both looked satisfied, so Newt fell in line and breathed a sigh of relief. Anathema, however, was adjusting her glasses and squinting. “You should probably get started on that pie,” she suggested. “Adam could give you a hand.”

“That would be lovely,” Aziraphale agreed. He grabbed an apple from the basket and offered it to Adam. “Here, you could try the first bite, make sure they're good enough?” He smiled at the reversal and made a mental note to tell Crowley later that he'd tempted the human into biting the apple this time – but Gabriel snatched the apple out of Adam's hands before he could take a bite.

“Sorry,” Once more his tone as apologetic, but Adam hadn't missed the flash of anger that crossed Gabriel's features. “I have exactly enough for the pie. You understand.” Adam didn't – if Gabriel had never made a pie before, how could he be certain he had exactly enough? But he didn't press. 

“Well, we'll just pop into the kitchen,” Aziraphale explained to Newt and Anathema. He seemed to want them to do something, but he couldn't communicate it with Gabriel there. They stayed planted where they were and watched as the two angels and the Anti-Christ disappeared into a kitchen that was only sometimes there. 

Anathema waited until she felt as confident as she could that they wouldn't hear her. “His aura's wrong.”

“I thought you couldn't see Adam's?”

“No, not Adam's. The angel – Gabriel, not Aziraphale. There's something tinged there. Aziraphale's aura is solid white except at the edges where it's sort of black, but the kind of black you can see stars in. Gabriel's looks like ...like a white silk shirt that someone's done a pretty good job of washing a stain out, but if you look closely enough it's still there.”

“Well, maybe his aura's always looked like that?”

“No, it hasn't. I saw it when he was trying to get Adam to restart Armageddon. Back then it was solid white.”

“Well, you said Aziraphale's isn't solid white at the edges, should we really be worried about this?”

She grumbled. Newt had agreed to read all of her occultist books and magazines, but he still didn't believe in a good portion of it. “Auras changing like this is a big deal, especially for someone like an angel. They're supposed to be timeless and unchanging.”

“Maybe it's because the definition of goodness changed,” he offered. Newt had not yet figured out that sometimes someone wants to be listened to without any input. Anathema thought she was explaining things, Newt thought they were spitballing ideas together. She groaned. 

“Maybe, it's possible but I don't think so. I wish we knew some more angels so we could test it,” she moved forward just enough to peer into the kitchen. Aziraphale was making Adam wash his hands before he would allow the boy to help in any way. She grabbed Aziraphale's phone from where he'd left it – on top of one of the bookshelves.

“Why are you using his phone?”

“Does Crowley answer anyone else?” She said shortly, stabbing at the buttons to dial. 

“Aziraphale?” 

“Crowley!”

“What are you doing with angel's phone?” Crowley sounded slightly amused. “That's you, Anathema, right?”

“Yes. Crowley, listen – there's an angel in the bookshop.”

“Er –yeah, he owns the place. That's kind of been his thing for a hundred plus years.”

“No,” she paced as she talked. “Not him! One of the _other_ ones. Gabriel?”

“Gabriel's there?! What the hell are you all still doing in there?! Get out, get out right now. And put Aziraphale on the line, he should know better than to let Gabriel in there-”

“Crowley,” she interrupted, “Aziraphale is in the kitchen with Gabriel. Oh – um..and Adam, actually. And by the way, we've _all_ been trying to get a hold of you lately. They're helping Gabriel make an apple pie.”

“What?” Crowley asked flatly.

“An apple pie,” Anathema now wished she hadn't brought it up. It sounded ridiculous and it sounded so ...wholesome. Two angels helping a curly haired, sweet blond boy making an apple pie? She was pretty sure her mom had sent a postcard like that to her aunt once. 

“Ok. Keep an eye on all of them, but maybe this is just a power move,” Crowley seemed to be deep in thought. “I'll be on my way soon. After _someone_ starts giving me some answers.” He hung up and Anathema momentarily wondered if he were also in a hostage situation – just one were he was the captor. 

“Sit and wait,” she said to Newt's questioning expression. “But if he offers us any of that pie, I wouldn't take it.”

Crowley set the phone down and adjusted the gramophone on the coffee table. “I know you're there and I think you know that I know, so let's just have a nice chit chat before I run off to save my incredibly stupid friends.”

 _I'm glad you have friends now,_ God offered meekly. 

“Come off it and let's get on track. What were those vials?” He had a sneaking suspicion and if he was right things were about to get even worse. Right now he just had to get Her to show her hand. Something he didn't think anyone – human, angel, demon or other – had ever managed. He waited with his arms crossed, feeling a little like a petulant teenager. The kind that's been forbidden from doing something really fun, but the parents settled on their reasoning as 'Because we said so' instead of coming out with the truth. 

_The vials are their plan. Part of it, at least._

“Yes, obviously! I think I could riddle that part out for myself. I want to know what the vials _do_. What's in them, can they be counteracted? Should I have thrown them out when I had the chance?”

Silence. 

“You know, if you aren't going to help me I can't keep helping you. And I don't think you'll be able to keep your promise anyway. Can you?”

 _I can,_ She insisted. 

“How can you? You don't know what's happening anymore!” He pushed himself off the sofa and glared down at the gramophone. “You didn't know for sure that those vials would be there or what they do, did you?”

 _You always did ask too many questions,_ Her voice was soft now. There was no accusation – she said it fondly, actually. _it made you realize things before any of the others. You're right, Crowley. I can still see flashes – I still see all of Earth, all of the humans – but most of the angels and demons are hidden from me. I can't even see into the uppermost boardroom in heaven anymore. I have a sense for what they may be doing, but I no longer_ know. _It's recent, but they've decided they don't want me to know._

Several thousand years ago, right before he'd fallen, Crowley would have been gratified to finally hear God being forced to tell him an absolute truth, especially one that admitted that even she didn't always know what was going on. But this? This was horrifying. 

“How did they even manage that?” He didn't mean for it to come out sympathetic, but it did. “You're everywhere, see everything.”

 _“Not anymore._

“Ah. Well. ...sorry about th---shit,” Crowley headed toward the door. “Gabriel's at Aziraphale's – if _you_ don't know what he's up to right now...” he didn't finish the thought, just slammed the door behind him. 

_Good luck_ God said as though anyone could hear her anymore.


	6. The Lattice Work is Especially Impressive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apple pie is almost done! ...but more importantly, Gabriel has some threatening words for Aziraphale and Crowley

Crowley had taken off like a shot from his room and into the Bentley, driving faster than even he usually dared. He darted in and out of traffic, biting his lip so hard he was drawing blood. The whole point of not telling Aziraphale had been to keep the damn angel safe this time, and yet he'd still managed to get drawn in. Crowley mentally damned Gabriel, Hastur, God herself and anyone else he could think to blame for this situation. 

He pulled up on the curb and came to a screeching halt before flinging the car door open and running inside the book shop. The smell of apple pie filled the air the moment the door was open. Anathema and Newt were waiting for him in the front of the book shop.

“Has he left, then?”

“No,” Anathema shook her head, then jerked a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the backroom. “They're still baking. Aziraphale insisted on a complex lattice.”

“Of course he did,” Crowley's eyes couldn't be seen behind his glasses, but Anathema would bet good money he was rolling them. “Has Gabriel said anything? Done anything threatening?”

“I mean, he seems pretty nice,” Newt offered, then immediately wished he hadn't. Crowley was glaring at him. “He _is_ an angel, right? Can they really be all that bad? Especially since the world's not going to end anymore?”

“Crowley!” Crowley had to bite back his comment to Newt – Gabriel had come into the front room of the shop. “How good to see you. It's been a while, hasn't it?”

“It's been a few weeks,” Crowley answered flatly. “Since you took Aziraphale and tried to kill him.”

“And we're so sorry about that,” Gabriel said with a beatific smile. 

“Oh? You told him you're sorry, did you?” 

“It's all water under the bridge. We're making an apple pie.”

“I heard. Seems a bit American for Aziraphale's tastes,” Crowley let his voice get a little louder, trying to summon Aziraphale without being obvious. “Thought he might prefer a ...a uh ...a crumble or something. Lots of different things can be done with-” and now his voice caught as another thought came to him. “Why apple?”

“Just happened to have some,” Gabriel's smile quickly turned to a smirk. “Beautiful ones. I'd let you try one, but just enough for the pie. You know how it is. But I did want to speak to you.”

“I'm sure you do,”

“It's just...that was a neat trick you two pulled,” Gabriel gave an innocent looking shrug. “One might think someone had tipped you both off and you'd prepared for it. I mean, a demon not being harmed by holy water...how did you manage that?”

“Gone native, I guess. Wouldn't hurt a human. I do suppose I've been up here too long.”

“Ah, but hell fire _would_ kill a human. So how do you suppose Aziraphale survived that?”

“Maybe he's just stronger than your lot wants to give him credit for.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale chose the exact worst moment to come out from the backroom. “There you are! We're making a lovely pie, and Adam's been a huge help,” Sure, Gabriel had already seen it, but Crowley hadn't been expecting the pink, frilly 'Kiss the Cook' apron, complete with angel wings on the back where it tied. 

“Angel,” He grimaced. “Seriously?” 

“Well, I think it will turn out quite well. Pies can be a bit tricky, but the lattice work is lovely. What did you say you needed this for, Gabriel?” 

“Ah, well, that is a secret,” Gabriel wagged his finger. “But it's still got what – an hour more to bake?”

“At least,” Aziraphale nodded his agreement. 

“Then I would like to have a word with the two of you.”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Anathema spoke up. “We were there at the end last time. Whatever you have to say to them, you can say to us,” she grabbed Newt's hand and pulled him closer, both of them trying to stand up to their full height. Newt wasn't sure this was a good idea, but he was following her lead.

“No, no. Just the three of us. We're going for a little ride, and we'll be back before the pie burns.” It wouldn't work on Adam, but the tone of voice Gabriel adopted was more than enough to hypnotize a human man and his witch girlfriend. They both froze in their place, eyes blank and wide open. “I'll turn them back to normal after we speak. Now, to my car?”

“Since when do you have a car?” Aziraphale asked, but he hurried along after Gabriel, Crowley following as well. Outside of the shop a white limo had just pulled up. Hastur jumped out of the back and held the door open.

“Get in,” he said gruffly.

“This seems pretty high up on the list of bad ideas,” Aziraphale said softly to Crowley.

“You can get in or we can torch the shop,” Hastur's hand was on fire and he was looking at the book shop lecherously. 

“Very well,” Aziraphale climbed in without another word. Crowley followed him, making a mental note of all of the curse words he would like to shout at everyone right now. But this was a chance to put more of the puzzle pieces together, and he couldn't waste the opportunity. 

Crowley and Aziraphale scooted along to one side of the limo as Gabriel took a seat on the other side. Hastur lumbered back in and sat next to Gabriel, though both looked uncomfortable with the seating arrangement. 

“We have our suspicions on how you two didn't die last time,” Gabriel started, then knocked on the roof to signal the driver. The limo started and pulled away from the shop. “See, the thing is...that doesn't matter. Because things are moving now.”

“You can't want to restart it all!” Aziraphale said incredulously. “The plan is ineffable – it must have been what She wanted the whole time!”

“I really hate that word,” Gabriel echoed the same sentiments Crowley had had more than once. “But no, we have reason to believe the Almighty has been ...compromised. The plan needs to go forward as She _originally_ planned it all those thousands of years ago. She set it down, and there was never any talk of it changing.”

“So why tell us, then?” Crowley asked. “It's not as though either of us are on your side. You planning on ending this ride with killing us?”

Gabriel wagged his finger again. Crowley wanted to bite it off. “No, no. Not yet. See...you boys made a mockery of everything we stand for. We're not going to make it easy for either of you this time,” he leaned towards Aziraphale. “This time, we're going to destroy your demonic boyfriend in front of you. _Then_ we'll take care of you. But before either one of you...you both get to watch the world end. All of that hard work you both put in – poof! Gone, right in front of both of you.”

“And you're not at all concerned we'll manage to stop you again?” Aziraphale asked, but before Gabriel could answer, he added “And back at the shop – you promised our young Adam that you wouldn't bother me or my bookshop again. Gave your word as an angel.”

Crowley stiffened. Aziraphale noted the change and made a mental note to ask him about it later – provided Gabriel really was going to take them back without incident. 

“Which is why our side gets to do it,” Hastur finally jumped in, clearly relishing the words. “Their side gets to do in Crowley, our side gets you. This time there won't be any way for you to stop it. Either of you,” His attention was on Crowley now. 

Crowley, as usual, was too cool for Hastur's tastes. He didn't seem bothered by the conversation, or even a little worried. It wasn't terribly fun threatening someone who wouldn't get scared. 

“Well,” Crowley checked his watch, “As enlightening as a conversation as this was, I suspect the pie might start burning if we don't get back soon.”

“Oh, I think it still has some time-” Aziraphale leaned over to glance and Crowley's watch. “Yes, see, we have-”

“But human ovens aren't the most precise, so wouldn't it be best if we got back to it? Then Gabriel could be on his way with his pie and we could get to...” 

“Taking Adam back to Tadfield,” Aziraphale supplied. 

Gabriel knocked again on the roof of the limo and it turned itself around, heading back the way it had came. “You'll be glad to know that some of this came from you, Crowley.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Big part of the plan came from one of yours. An original design, I think.” Gabriel waited for his words to sink in. Crowley had already figured this part out, but now Aziraphale's eyes were widening as something dawned on him. 

“Gabriel ..um...if you don't mind my asking... where exactly did those apples come from?”

Now Gabriel looked triumphant. He sat up, waved his hands and the pie appeared on his lap. “Seems it's done. We'll just drop you boys off at your shop, eh? Thank you so much for your help with our preparations, Aziraphale. Couldn't have done it without you. Or Crowley, for your inspiration. Thanks again.” An invisible force sent the pair flying out of the limo and onto their butts on the sidewalk in front of the shop.

“Those aren't-” Aziraphale started.

“They are. Bastards must have gone back into Eden for them.”

“But Crowley ...why? Whatever could they do with them?”

“I dunno,” Crowley admitted. “I've got some ideas and all of them are equally terrible.”

“And where have you been lately? You haven't even taken my calls.”

“Angel. We do not have time right now,” Crowley insisted, holding the door open and urging Aziraphale inside. The angel obliged him, but looked irritated. 

“So when will we have time?”

“Oi! Where did you two go?” Adam demanded. He had apparently woken Anathema and Newt from their hypnosis. Anathema looked a little dizzy and Newt was hunched over and trying not to vomit. “I woke them up but they seem a little...not right.”

“Odd. Heavenly miracles shouldn't leave them so ...out of sorts. Let me make you some peppermint tea. Or maybe ginger?” 

“Peppermint,” Newt asked as he felt his stomach lurch. “Sorry,” he said, looking at the mess he'd just made. “I promise I'll clean it up...soon as I'm...soon as I'm done,” he vomited again. 

“Might just be him punishing them for helping last time,” Crowley suggested. “You can't pretend that heaven doesn't hold a grudge,” he gestured at himself for emphasis. He conjured up chairs for them and helped them sit down, then pushed a trash can in front of Newt.

“So they are restarting, then?” Anathema asked and gave a shiver. “Can't give us just a little bit of peace before they want to try again?”

“Hell hath no fury – except it does, and heaven does, too,” Crowley leaned back against a bookshelf, thinking hard. “The good news is they need new riders – I'm not sure why they can't get the old ones, but they mentioned replacements.”

“No they didn't,” Aziraphale came back in holding a silver service tray with a pot of steaming tea and four cups, as well as various additions. “I didn't hear Gabriel or Hastur say anything about needing new riders.”

“It's something I've uncovered,” Crowley admitted, waving away the tea he was being offered. 

“Is that why you haven't been coming around?” Adam asked, accepting his own cup of tea and adding a truly heaping spoonful of sugar to it. “Cause you were busy spying?” He smiled his approval when Crowley nodded. “Wicked. I'd have helped if you told me to. I'm pretty good at sneaking around when I have to. My mom can never hide my presents from me.”

“This was a bit higher stakes than that.”

“And you didn't tell me?” Aziraphale looked huffy. 

“...sorry. I just – I thought you could use a break this time. I was hoping not to get any of you involved and that maybe I could shut it down early this time.”

“Well, I suppose it's a little too late to get upset. After all,” Aziraphale took a sip of tea, “We all need to focus on what we can do to stop it again. I wonder if there's any chance I can take this up to Head Office...She didn't answer last time but-”

“She won't answer this time, either.”

“Why would you think that, Crowley?”

“Angel, She didn't answer last time, and Gabriel as good as told us – they said they thought She's been compromised. We have to do this without Her. ...Again.”

“I suppose you're right.”

“The riders last time had negative auras,” Anathema offered. “I could try to look around for that again. It'd be hard, but worth a shot, right?”

“Can't hurt,” Crowley agreed. “But our highest need right now is keeping Adam out of their hands – they don't have a way to replace the Anti-Christ. No Anti-Christ, no end of the world.”

“That is true,” Aziraphale agreed. “Adam, do you suppose you could call your parents and ask to spend some time here?”

“I'm sorry, won't most parents think that's kind of dodgy?” Newt was still shivering when he looked up. “I mean, my mom wouldn't have liked me being eleven years old and staying with a much older male friend who wasn't related to us and didn't have kids my age.”

“I think he'll find his parents are very accommodating – though I do see what you're getting at. Adam, you can use the phone over there-”

“No need, I got a cell phone,” Adam dialed and moved to another room to make the call. 

“See, Crowley?” Aziraphale smiled softly in Adam's direction. “He doesn't want to do it, he knows right and wrong. There's nothing to worry about. What could possibly change his mind this time?"


	7. Apple Pie a la Mode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pie is served. Aziraphale learns some upsetting truths.

Pepper shouldered her backpack as she, Wensleydale, and Brian got out of Wensleydale's parents' car. The Them were immediately heading for Hogback Wood. They had all briefly wondered earlier where Adam was but had come to the joint conclusion that he must have fallen ill. And while they felt bad for him the kids were still keen to get to their games. School had been a long slog and they all deserved a break.

Besides, Wensleydale had gotten extra copies of the homework and planned to drop it off with the Youngs right before dinner.

“Anyway,” Brian said as though the conversation had never been interrupted, “I figure the Ninja Turtles could prob'bly take the Transformers.”

“So you keep saying,” Pepper complained, “But Optimus Prime could just ..step on them and then they're done for, right?”

“Actually,” Wensley interjected, hurrying to catch up with them “Optimus is a good guy, so he wouldn't fight the Ninja Turtles, I think.”

“Nah, you're missing the first rule of cross overs,” Brian insisted. Brian's comic book collection was growing lately and he was starting to form Opinions on the whole subject. “First rule is if they meet they gotta fight. That's why there was that Batman versus Superman movie that no one liked. First they fight, then they become friends.”

“We're not talking about it like it's going to happen!” Pepper was exasperated. “Obviously that's what would happen if they met in a comic book. I mean if they really were going to fight each other-”

“Now what are you youngsters getting up to?” The Them stopped short. Adults stopping them on their way to the woods or on the way to make mischief was nothing new. But this wasn't R.P. Tyler stopping them while on a walk with his dog or any of the mums who would sometimes fuss at them. 

There was an inkling of recognition there, but none of the three could place the gentleman. He smiled at them. Brian and Pepper stopped and studied him, but Wensleydale took a step back. “Sorry sir,” he said, “But who are you?”

“Gabriel,” The smile grew wider. It was making all three of them uncomfortable. Right now Gabriel was basking – the kids weren't able to remember him due to a subtle manipulation on his part. And coming across all three at once like this? Perfect. “You know, I'm actually new here. And I just opened up an ice cream shop,” he twisted a bit and pointed in the direction of the town square. “Officially we open tomorrow but I was just thinking ...you know, it would really be a great idea to get some of the locals' perspective first. Make sure the flavors are uh...” 

“Good?” Brian supplied.

“Yes, that would be best, right? Having good ice cream,” Gabriel said appreciatively.

“I mean, it's ice cream,” Wensleydale was still hanging behind the other two. He wasn't afraid, exactly, but something about Gabriel was setting him on edge. “Is it possible for it to be bad?”

“I've heard about there being places in America with like ...garlic ice cream,” Pepper made a face. “You don't have that, right?”

“No, no, not at all. I have all sorts of flavors. If you kids want to come on down? It's just a short walk, you could follow me.”

Smart children should never listen to strange men they meet in the woods (or in this case, right outside of the forest). And normally, the Them were in fact smart children. A little brash and impulsive, yes, but not dumb. 

But none of them saw Hastur lurking just beyond, hidden behind a tree. As a demon, temptations were naturally a specialty. And Gabriel's own angelic powers were working in concert to remove the doubt and fear. 

“I don't think we -” Pepper started to decline, but Hastur's manipulations were taking hold. “Actually, I can't see any reason not to follow this strange man we just met to go get ice cream.”

“I agree,” Brian said almost woodenly. “We should follow him immediately and without letting an adult know where we're going.”

Wensleydale said nothing. Part of his mind remained unconvinced, but his feet were also moving so that all of the kids were now following Gabriel. If anyone in town saw the group it didn't occur to any of them that something strange was going on. 

They came to a shop at the village square with a large sign proclaiming it “ParadIce Cream”. An old style neon sign in the shape of an ice cream cone lit up as the group approached. The door swung open and Gabriel herded them in, taking one last glance around to make certain no one else was watching.

Beelzebub was behind the counter, slicing into the apple pie Gabriel had brought by earlier. Beelzebub plopped a slice on a plate and then scooped out a large portion of ice cream. They repeated this until there were three plates of apple pie, each with a scoop of solid white ice cream on top.

“Can't forget the drizzles,” Gabriel set one slice of pie before each kid, then removed three vials from the inner lining of his suit jacket. He poured the entire contents onto one of the slices then moved on to the next vial and the next slice of pie until all three were now covered in a drizzle. “Eat up, kids,” He handed them each a spork.

The moment they touched their utensils to the ice cream each scoop took on a change. Pepper's became a deep, violent red. Wensleydale's already white ice cream somehow became even brighter. Brian's took on a sludgy looking gray color. If they noticed they didn't say anything. They just ate in silence.

“You're sure they're good for this?” Beelzebub asked, watching them for a moment. 

“They're perfect. What's more, they're the Anti-Christ's friends. If he wants them back-”

“Then he'll have to help us,” Beelzebub concluded. “But how will this get the kids to have the powers and get them to work with us? Seems like a lot to hinge on some brats.”

“It's beyond a demon's comprehension.”

It wasn't. Most anyone could follow it. The true difference between humans, angels and demons is that the first humans ate of the Fruit of Knowledge – that apple that Adam and Eve bit into at Crowley's urging. Angels – and demons too, for that matter – had basically had to figure it out for themselves based on what God modeled for them. 

But the apple had granted humans the ability to know right from wrong. But as rules get more complex and society has changed the knowledge originally passed down genetically may no longer be right. Everything got all muddled and it's no longer clear. Not without some perspective.

So, a recipe to restart Armageddon:

Take three kids – and the age is important here, because their brains haven't fully formed yet – and give them one of the apples of Eden. Right now, every good thing and every bad thing is playing in their heads like an old time newsreel, coming in so quickly that they can barely comprehend what they're seeing. 

In addition to the apple, take the essence of temptation and doubt and pour all over the Eden apple pie (the ice cream just helps it go down more smoothly and to help the store's cover of being an ice cream shop. Can't have an ice cream shop without ice cream or the few humans paying attention might notice something was off). 

They were almost done eating now, their movements mechanical. Even hypnotized, Brian managed to spill some on his shirt. He came to momentarily, dabbed at it and then stole a bite of Pepper's ice cream to make up for it.

“Hey!” she snapped out as well, just for a moment. She elbowed him in the rib cage before both of them resumed eating.

Once they'd all polished off the last of it, all three of them passed out, their heads on the table. 

“What do we do with them until we're ready to start?” Thinking ahead on things had never been Hell's strong suit, so Beelzebub figured Gabriel must have a plan.

“How the hell should I know? That's your problem now.” And with that, Gabriel disappeared. 

“Bastard,” Beelzebub muttered.

After heavenly intervention to make Mr. and Mrs. Young see that their son staying with an older man they hardly knew was, in fact, a terrific idea, Adam was now gearing down and trying to figure out where he was going to sleep. He'd wanted to go back to Crowley's place, but the demon had said no. 

“It's safer for him here,” Crowley insisted. Aziraphale had gone along with it, but made it very clear he expected more information from the demon as soon as possible. 

“What aren't you telling me?”

“Nothing!”

“Oh?”

“...That I can tell you right now,” Crowley's resolve broke almost instantly. “Just let me try to handle my part. It's a lot and I don't quite have all the pieces fit together yet.”

“We could help!” Adam suggested. “I bet the three of us together could figure it all out. Wensleydale's got all these detective books and I'm great at figuring out what happened and who did it.” He wasn't. Adam just didn't know he was rubbish at it because he never bothered to read the pages at the back of the book that explained the solutions. Even if he had, he would have preferred his own explanations. 

“Might be worth it to give it a go,” Aziraphale agreed. “If you keep things from me, however will I help you?”

There was nothing for it. Crowley made them both promise to sit tight and then had run out, saying he'd be back shortly. When he came back Aziraphale and Adam were sitting in the backroom which now had a plush couch (which Adam occupied) and two lounge chairs (one of which Aziraphale was sitting in – the other was presumably for Crowley). Aziraphale offered him a cup of tea, not realizing his hands were full.

“Oh! The gramophone I gave you!” Aziraphale sounded delighted. “So glad you like it-”

“That's not why I brought it,” Crowley said darkly, setting it up on the coffee table that Aziraphale must have miracled up while he'd been gone. “Oi, start talking,” 

“About what?”

“Not you, Angel! She knows who I'm talking to!”

_Aziraphale is still an angel. There may be a recording of this conversation now._

Aziraphale dropped his tea cup. It shattered on the floor, the tea running every which way and staining the carpet. He was too in shock to clean it up. “...God?” He croaked.

_Yes. Hello, Aziraphale. It's been a while._

“Yes, I'd say it has,” he pulled at his shirt collar nervously before turning his attention back to Crowley. “How long have you been talking to Her?”

“It's not like this was my idea!”

“Crowley!”

“I didn't invite Her to my place, had no clue She could do this. She just comes in without a … just wants me to do whatever She asks and I've got to do it, don't I? Can't say no to Her, can I? Damned for all time and yet somehow, someway, She could probably make it worse.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am not blaming you for this. I just want to know how long.”

“Ask Her!”

_The day of Crowley's birthday. So not long. A few days. ...Happy birthday to both of you, by the way._

“It wasn't even actually my birthday,” Crowley had gone into full fit mode. “And some present you are, anyway. Just show up and start demanding things of me and not even telling us....go on, tell them what you told me.”'

“Is that really God?” Adam sat forward and poked at the gramophone. “I just thought the voice would be deeper...”

“Too many movies,” Aziraphale said dismissively. “But...Lord, if you would be so kind as to explain yourself?”

A sustained sigh came through the gramophone. _I needed someone who could act as a free agent. As you know, when I speak to angels things are recorded in the Records Room. If I speak to Humans, they're recorded in the Prayer Room._

“But there's no one listening in to you talking to demons,” Aziraphale was quick on the uptake. “Which means if you spoke to Crowley then no one would be recording.” he turned his gaze in his friend's direction. “Why would you bring Her here? This conversation is going to be recorded now!” 

“I know that, but would you have believed me otherwise? Would anyone have? 'Oh, Aziraphale, by the way, God's talking to me and She's using the gramophone you gave me.'. I still remember how that bit went down for Joan of Arc, don't forget!”

“I was there, too, I remember,” Aziraphale frowned. “I see your point. But I like to think I would have believed you. No point in wondering now.”

“No, there isn't. And She is going to tell you the absolute worst part of this whole thing, the part She was hiding from me. Aren't you?” 

_Yes, Crowley. As we agreed. Aziraphale. ...Guardian of the East Gate. I can no longer see all of Heaven, nor can I peer into all of Hell._

“I'm sorry, what was that?” Judging by how big his eyes were, Crowley figured Aziraphale had heard her just fine. “Crowley, I must have misunderstood Her. It sounds like you're both saying that God ...can't see what the angels or demons are up to anymore.”

“That is exactly what She's saying.”

_It's true. I don't know how they managed, but they did. As I told Crowley – I can get a feel for about where they're at and snippets of what they may be doing. But it's no longer clear to me. I can't tell you how to stop them because I can no longer figure out what exactly there is to stop. Just that they're planning something._

“Ah. Well... That is...” Aziraphale stammered for a while. “Disappointing, to say the least.”

“Disappointing? Disappointing?! This is the Alpha and Omega admitting she doesn't know _shit_!”

“Language in front of the child!”

“I've heard worse,” Adam offered. “A lot worse. Like-”

Aziraphale cut him off before he could finish. “We managed last time. We can do it again, right?”

Crowley sighed. “I dunno. But I'm guessing we have to try, right? No just running off to the stars?”

“That will be Plan B. But for now...why don't you,” he looked at the gramophone, “Both of you, tell me everything that you do know for now. Then we'll start working on Plan A.”


	8. Maybe the Eleven Year Old is More Capable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're starting to piece things together. The problem is, the other side is still several steps ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going with the name Eric for the Disposable Demon, since that seems to be what his name was in the original script (and because I didn't want to keep calling him The Disposable Demon).

“So,” Aziraphale repeated as calmly as he could – which might have worked if he hadn't just said “So” eight times prior, all of them in different tones of voice. “So,” he said once more, finally working his way past it, “You, Lord of all Creation,” he indicated the gramophone, “Currently cannot see what parts of Heaven and Hell are up to. They seem to be working together. They are in need of three new riders and we do not know where they stand on their search for them. Have I left anything out?”

 _No. That's pretty much it._ God's voice came over the gramophone. Aziraphale frowned at the device, biting back the cutting remarks he wanted to make. 

“And so you cannot offer us any insight on what they may be doing, planning or plotting because you yourself do not know.” Now he was moving to statements instead of questions. 

“We don't need to keep doing this, Angel,” Crowley insisted. He was leaning against one of the bookshelves with his arms crossed, looking even more irritated than usual. 

“Is there a way I could try to ...look into it?” Adam offered. “Sometimes I just know things. Maybe I could-”

“Maybe,” Aziraphale started, then looked at the gramophone. “Oh. Sorry. Didn't mean to imply something blasphemous like an eleven year old boy is more capable than – uh. Well. I – what I mean is-”

 _Please go ahead and try, Adam,_ God agreed, ignoring Aziraphale's stammering. _It's the only plan we have right now. Just close your eyes and concentrate._

Adam closed his eyes, bunching them up tightly. He was already sitting criss-cross on the floor, but now he started rocking back and forth in place, humming to himself. Aziraphale momentarily thought of Madame Tracy's seances – he'd gone back once after everything out of politeness - but then he felt the energy in the shop shift. This was far more real (his own time possessing her not withstanding). 

Adam opened his eyes a bit later, his hands to his temples. “It hurts. I get flashes but – I dunno, I think something's wrong. But it feels ...familiar?” he offered, hopefully. He didn't quite have the vocabulary for it. “Like I don't know what they're doing but I ...” he trailed off, his expression suddenly dark.

“Well, thanks for trying, anyway,” Crowley said with a little half wave. 

“Yes, quite,” Aziraphale agreed, “Can't expect you to do what God Herself can't, after all-”

 _I was hoping he could_ God offered. 

“Sorry,” Adam said looking down at the floor guiltily. Aziraphale missed the tone of voice, but it wasn't lost on Crowley. The kid was hiding something. He was trying to give them a half truth. Crowley made a mental note to check in with him later – calling him out in front of everyone else might just make him clam up faster, after all. 

“'S all right,” Crowley insisted. “I mean, we don't know where they're at right now, but it's not like they're about to break the door down, right?”

“So how do we go about summoning him?” Eric asked, scrambling over a rock as he followed behind Sandalphon. “I mean, he's everywhere, shouldn't we be able to just call out to him?” Sandalphon didn't answer him. “Sort of like, uh – 'yoo-hoo! Mr. Death, Sir? We'd like your assistance?'”

They came to a clearing in the middle of the Hog Woods. The Them, sans Adam, of course, were sitting in a semi circle, seemingly frozen in time. Eric swallowed nervously. He didn't go into the human world often, but the last time he'd been he'd popped in on a horror movie, for fun. This scene looked remarkably close to one of the ones in the film. 

Sandalphon continued to ignore him, scooping an errant frog off the ground. “This will have to do,” He brought his hands together and squeezed– the frog was dead. 

“Doesn't it have to be something with a soul? Do animals have souls? I was never completely sure on that-”

WHAT IS YOUR MESSAGE? YOU ARE ONE WHO DOES NOT DIE – AT LEAST NOT WITHOUT HELLFIRE INTERVENTION. AND YOUR PARTNER CANNOT PERMANENTLY DIE WITHOUT HOLY WATER. WHY HAVE YOU CALLED ME?

Sandalphon finally spoke, sweeping an arm out in the direction of the children. “Come and see.”

REALLY? THEM?

“It's the best we could do under short notice. You'll find they're more up to the task than they may first seem. Eric?”

“Me?” Eric pointed at himself, relieved he was finally being addressed. He had really thought he had been sent out here on a suicide mission. Sandalphon gestured for him to hand something over. Eric blinked and the box was in his hands. He handed it off to Sandalphon and the angel started to distribute the various implements among the children. 

As the sword reached Pepper's hands she started to glow faintly red. Wensleydale followed with a bright white aura when he had his scales and Brian became a sludgy, muddy color when the crown reached his head. 

I SEE. THE ORIGINAL RIDERS ARE STILL INSIDE THE IMPLEMENTS. THE CHILDRENS' ESSENCES HAVE BEEN PURIFIED AND THEIR HUMAN NATURE HAS BEEN RESET TO THE BEGINNING – THEY ARE MORE MOLDABLE AND SUSCEPTIBLE TO IT NOW.

“That seems to be the long and short of it,” Eric agreed. He let out an involuntary shiver. The power flowing among the new riders and Death itself seemed to be flowing around and into everything. Humans would start noticing the change soon. “You lot up for this?” he directed it at the children. They didn't speak. “Are they uh...I mean, did we melt their brains or anything?”

THEY ARE STILL ACCLIMATING. THEY WILL EVENTUALLY BE ABLE TO SPEAK, AND THEN WE WILL RIDE. WE MUST ALLOW THEM THE TIME TO COME INTO THEIR POWER.

“Ah. Got it, then,” Eric agreed, swaying on the spot impatiently. “Will it be a while? Could I maybe get lunch?”

Sandalphon waved him off. 

“Is that a yes, then? Did you want anything? Nice little sandwich shop down in the village, I could get you a-” seeing the look on Sandalphon's face, he corrected. “Never mind then, just gonna nip and get myself a bite. I'll ...I'll be back, yeah?”

“Do we have enough apples for anyone who needs one?” Gabriel adjusted the sleeve of his shirt. Uriel pulled out a folder and looked over the numbers. 

“Depends on how many of the others are siding with us.”

“Siding with us?” Gabriel shook his head. “This is for all of Heaven. All of Hell, for that matter, too. The plan must go forward. And for that, we need Her to not be involved anymore.”

“We aren't worried that it may be uh...blasphemous?” Uriel suggested. She looked uncomfortable. 

Gabriel gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Uriel, please. The Great Plan was stopped. God did nothing to stop it. So what does that make Her?” he didn't give Uriel long enough to answer. “It means She's sided with the Humans. It makes her the enemy. She promised us our final battle when the world was first created. And now she's just trying to ...pull it away? Does that seem fair to you?”

“Well, no, but-” she sighed. “I suppose you're right. Ever since I had that apple things actually feel less clear.”

“That's because it's gross matter,” he pulled a face, “I didn't like mine, either. But it was just the one bite and we're free now. So. Feel better?”

She smiled and they both pretended it was genuine. “Thank you, Gabriel.”

“Anytime.”

Apples. The whole damn thing was centering around apples. Crowley knew what he had to do but he didn't want to. And to do it, he _had_ to involve Aziraphale this time, whether he wanted to or not. He waited until Adam had fallen asleep for the night, then covered the gramophone with a sheet. 

_I'm not a bird,_ God complained. _This doesn't stop me from seeing or hearing. You know that, right?_

“Well then, consider that it makes me feel better. Don't listen in.”

_I can't really help it..._

“You know what I mean!” He hissed. “He's going to be nervous enough about this, he doesn't need you butting in while we talk.” He took her silence as acquiescence. He found Aziraphale at his desk, reading through a book of poetry. “Angel, I need a favor.”

“Of course, but is now the time?” Aziraphale took off his reading glasses and glanced at the sofa where Adam was sleeping. 

“Now is the time, but it's probably best to talk about it in another room,” Crowley glanced meaningfully at the sofa. “Don't believe for a minute that he's as asleep as he seems.” Adam let out a loud snore. “Yeah, that just proves my point. If you're going to fake sleep, do a better job.”

Adam flipped over and grunted before working on actually falling asleep. Crowley and Aziraphale left him to it and made their way to the outside alley, where at least they would hear Adam if he tried to sneak up on them. “We have to go back to Eden.”

“Eden?” Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up so far they almost reached his hairline. “Whatever for? Does it even exist anymore?”

“It must. You saw the apples Gabriel had. We need a better idea – if I can examine the tree I think I can get a good sense of how many apples they took.”

“I can't see how that matters. He only made one pie, Crowley. Who on Earth would he even be feeding it to?”

“Angel. We do _not_ have time. Do you trust me?”

In answer, Aziraphale extended his hand. “I'll need your help to try to focus on where it was. It's been several centuries, after all.” Crowley took his hand, both allowing the energy to flow through both of them. “Now let's see...where were we?”

There was a faint roaring sound in Crowley's ears as the world seemed to spin. And then, there they were. It was still daylight in the garden. It looked mostly unchanged. “I would have thought She'd get rid of it?”

“I would have thought so as well, but it seems it's just closed off from humans. Though I can't imagine why anyone else would want to come here,” Aziraphale poked at a nearby tree. “I mean, it's lovely, but I can't imagine any angel or demon deciding to come here on a whim.”

“Right,” Crowley answered distractedly, making his way towards The Tree. It was towards the center – of course it was. Right where it would be the most tempting. It was still there, bigger than ever. It now dwarfed the other trees in the garden. He examined the leaves before looking over the fruit. Something felt wrong here. “He only had a few apples, right? Just enough for a pie, you said?” Aziraphale nodded. “It seems more than that are missing. I can't be sure – I'm not an expert, I don't have the room for fruit trees at the apartment. But it seems to me it's been picked over.”

Aziraphale joined him in examining the tree, but gave up quickly. “I'm afraid I wouldn't know. I wasn't taught how to make sure the fruit was missing when they told me to guard the tree. But why would they need so many apples?”

“Angel – what happens if an angel or a demon eats the fruit?”

Aziraphale stared at him in horror. “You're not saying-”

“I dunno. But I think so, yeah. Fits the pattern, doesn't it? They take a bite and can tell good and evil for themselves. And then-”

“And then they have free will,” Aziraphale breathed out, “Just like the humans do. But what would they use it for?” The answer came to him before Crowley could even answer. “It's just like you said – after we stopped it last time. The next one's Heaven and Hell against us and the humans. But they can't stand against God in their natural state – the angels can't, I mean ...”

“Maybe,” Crowley bit back the questions that were coming to him now. They were along the same lines as what had first gotten him to fall, the kind that usually made Aziraphale nervous. 

“So you think it's the end of the world, then?” Aziraphale pressed.

“I do. And the bastards are four or five steps ahead of us. We need to go back – Adam's hiding something from us. I don't know what, but he figured something out. I was going to chat with him about it tomorrow, but we don't have time anymore. We have to go _now_.”

They joined hands again and reappeared at the bookshop, only to find the door wide open and Adam missing. 

_I'm sorry,_ God said from the gramophone. It was on its side on the floor. It hopped itself back up on Aziraphale's desk. _He had to go with them. I couldn't stop them._

“So they took him?” Aziraphale looked to Crowley, trying to follow his lead for what to do next. 

_No,_ God answered. _Adam_ went _with them. He chose to go. He had to...._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it and you'll continue reading when new chapters are available.


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